Venison and Mountains

I get to go home soon. To see the snow! And ski! I will have to make 17 snow angels as well. And probably push my sister into a drift.


Today’s Exploit:

Today I ventured up to the rig floor to harass the roughnecks. We talked about growing up in small towns and how horrible the drive from Oklahoma City is. We also talked about my pink boots. They didn’t believe that they have steel toes.

Then we talked about hunting and how to cook deer. I have been informed that I will be eating venison fried in the East Texas tradition. Fried.

This sparked an argument between two of the guys about geography and where the boundary line for East Texas lies.

They bickered about this for 2.1 hours before moving on to argue about whether the Rocky Mountains extend into Texas. They had me rolling on the floor laughing with some of their claims.

Kevin: The Rocky Mountains go into Texas, don’t they?

Melvin: No, West Texas is flat.

Kevin: Really, I think they do.

They had to look it up on Google Maps to end the quarrel.

Kevin: So, where are the Rocky Mountains?

Melvin: Colorado.

Kevin: And?

Melvin: New Mexico.

Kevin: And?

Melvin: Nevada.

Kevin: And Texas!

Melvin: It’s only a little tiny bump.

Kevin: It’s still mountains.

Melvin: (Looks at phone) Oh, I just got an update; the little bit fell off and rolled west. So there aren’t mountains in Texas any more.

Stealthy

Cellular reception is terrible here. My phone only stays charged for 8.2 hours. Not that I ever use it, but sometimes I like to pretend that I’m popular and people like to communicate with me.


Today’s Exploit:


The guys have decided that I’m sneaky because I can get up to the floor without them hearing me. They seem to think that this is some great feat of stealthyness. They tell me I should let them know when I’m going up the stairs so that I don’t scare them.


I think they’ve been working around loud machinery far too long.


On my trips up I stomp and stumble and sing at the top of my lungs. Sadly my lungs are no match for the grinding and shrieking of the rig. The noise is rapidly increasing my hearing loss, and I spend the nights in a sound-proof box. It’s a good thing I get to leave soon; I think my ears are going to start bleeding if I spend much more time here.

Now that I know I can scare them, no matter how much noise I make, I take pleasure in running up the stairs at random intervals just to say hi.

Champion

The people out here tell me they’ve killed TONS of rattlesnakes. They also warn me daily to watch for them while I run. They’re pretty much obsessed; it’s all I hear about.


The company man even threatened to shoot me if I run in the dark.

Today’s Exploit:

That guy is back. You know? The one that would sit in the box and talk and talk, and never leave. The one that caused the other crew to buy Mace for me.

I saw him this morning. He waved. This evening he came in and complained about how weak my wave was. He stayed and talked at me about nothing for another half an hour.

I had told my friend Jason about him. (Jason is the one whose wife made Thanksgiving for EVERYONE) He has decided that he is my champion and continually asks me if I need him to get people fired. He also has decided that I need to visit him and his wife since I have no friends.

He’s also decreed that I need to meet his horses since I have funky/cowboy-steel toed boots.

Stairs

Honey, honey, honey you're the death of me
Won't stop holding my hands down
Baby, baby, baby you'll never let me

You've got a dark heart
You've got a cold kiss

-The Hush Sound

I really like this song. I listen to it incessantly

Today’s Exploit:

Today I had to work. I had to program some tools that I am not very familiar with. And I had to do it using a connection that I have never used before. It was nearly a traumatic experience.

The first one went very smoothly. Plug in, power up, program, done.

The second one was not so simple. First I had to find a ratchet to remove a plug. The shop did not think this was necessary equipment to send with the toolbox. So I ran up and down the stairs 3 times looking for one. Then I needed a screwdriver small enough to remove a snap clip. So I ran up and down the stairs again. Next was another plug with the same ratchet. Then I needed needle-nose pliers for an e-clip, but I was prepared for this one.

But then I encountered a third plug. And I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to remove it. Nothing in my little toolbox had the proper threads or length to fit the plug and still grip it to pull it out. So I ran up and down the stairs a few more (5.8) times. Finally I stumbled across some directions and a screw in the BIG toolbox.

Finally I was to the port, but then I realized that the connection adapter I had did not fit. This meant 3.2 more trips up and down. I finally discovered another box in a corner under some dirty rags. This box is the Holy Grail for this tool. It had all the equipment I needed to begin with, but the guy I work with neglected to mention it’s location. I might have to hide it under some empty boxes for when he has to program tools.

I think I made 86.4 trips up the stairs today. Currently my legs are protesting. I’ll be lucky if I make it back to the trailer without crawling. Anyone have an extra pair of crutches? Or a walker? Or a wheelchair?

Doctor Visit

I slept for 4.38 hours, then drove for 10.12 hours, then worked for 12.72 hours. Please forgive my incoherence.


Today’s Exploit:

I went to the doctor the other day. It was very traumatic.

I got an infection on my hand. My eczema sometimes gets too dried out and cracks and then gets infected. So I made an appointment with my dermatologist for a checkup and to get drugs to make the infection go away.

I arrived at the doctor’s office, and was shown to a room where I waited for 15.82 minutes. It was very boring and sterile. This doctor doesn’t put pictures on the walls.

Then she came in. She asked what my concerns were, so I told her about my infection. She looked at it and said, “it’s a wart.” I didn’t believe her. In my experience warts do not grow to the size of chocolate chips, or get inflamed, or make it hurt to bend your fingers. They don’t have puss in them either.

But the doctor happily got a razor and started hacking at my finger, claiming she was cutting off the callus. By the time she was done my finger was almost gone. And it didn’t feel any better. Then she was going to freeze the rest of it off.

I declined.

I still didn’t believe it was a wart.

And it was still infected. But I was afraid she’d cut the rest of my hand off if I stayed any longer to ask about it. So I ran as fast as I could to my car and roared away.